Whisked away from the home I knew and friends and school and abruptly transplanted into a place unknown to me, I was forced to open my young mind. I was ten years old and left to find friends where there were none. None but a tangle of thorny raspberry bushes, a twig of a sorry creek, and an open mind for the moment. It was there that I found comraderie; a spider, a minnow, a very willing crawdad and the never-ending, babbling conversation of my best friend, that skinny creek.
Today, I still follow the winding of whatever creek is nearby. It is a friendship that never ends. There is always something to do and lately it has been photographing the reflections of the waters, the trees that follow along the bank, the clouds and storms above and whatever richness I can find there. And there is an abundance of richness indeed!
For over 40 years, I have delighted in the life of the creek. From the green mosses and smooth stones to the hike alongside and to all that life holds within it.